


Within the Realm of Possibility

by acefusti138



Series: Domestic Tranquility [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Choking, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Modern AU, One-Shot, Reddie, Richie is iffy on if he's okay with it or not, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Safewords, both characters are switches!!, in this house eddie supports richie with his whole ass heart, safeword usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 11:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acefusti138/pseuds/acefusti138
Summary: Eddie has a bad day at work and asks Richie to treat him as he’s been treated all day as a way of getting his anger out.Never before has Richie had to safeword as a top.





	Within the Realm of Possibility

**Author's Note:**

> hi wow i made new content?? can you tell i love these fics?? sorry not sorry there is seriously not enough works in the IT fandom of richie being the emotionally vulnerable one of reddie and my bitch ass aint havin it.

Eddie handled stress differently than most.

After the years of mental abuse by his mother, anger was an outlet Eddie used if only because he’d never been able to as a child; Richie had known that fact for as long as he’d known his husband. Most of the time, it wasn’t even true _anger_ — more frustration he couldn’t vocalize in the gravity of the situation. That feeling of inability to do what he wished—to speak his voice and stand up for something that didn’t sit right with him—was much too familiar for someone who had grown up under the stifling oppression of free thought that was Sonia Kaspbrak.

Richie respected that.

Scenes that included being able to relieve said anger were few and far between; as one of the most intimate, loving things between them, adding anger into that mix was risky business. Eddie knew that sex was one of the few places where Richie could be emotionally open and raw with his husband without a single barrier to fret about. He could cry, whimper and plea for whatever touch, affection or love his heart yearned for.

Anger had no place in such a vulnerable display of passion and love.

But Eddie was stressed. Snippy and a bit blunt, the past week had been full of short-tempered snaps of unminced words and constant annoyance with seemingly unrelated things. Sure, Richie knew that as a mechanic, sometimes Eddie’s coworkers could be a little brash, and were known to cause his husband stress. He’d long since accepted that. But never before had Eddie seemed this _annoyed_ every time he came home from work, shoulders stiff and infuriated.

It had Richie worried, and honestly, as the one who often would unknowingly be on the end of said frustration, a little hurt.

Yeah, the fellow mechanics at the auto-shop were all a little gruff around their edges and would tease Eddie for his tiny stature or kind-hearted demeanor, but never had it been to the point that Eddie actually grew upset with them. It had Richie at a loss. Nothing had changed, save a few people. As of only a few days before, a handful of new mechanics had been hired, and Eddie had seemed to like them well enough. No unkind words about them; they were just there and that was that.

Until tonight. Eddie had come home _very_ annoyed, going as far as to slam the door to the garage and all but throw his travel coffee mug in the sink with a loud _Clang!._  Richie, who’d only been home from work for about twenty minutes, nearly jumped out of his skin when the door was slammed. Scrambling to rise from the couch, he found Eddie leaning over the sink, gripping the sides and practically radiating his frustration.

“Eddie?” He asked softly, knowing better than to try and use one of his many affectionately-dubbed nicknames for his husband. Eddie looked up, the tension slowly melting from his stature and hard eyes softening. He sighed, low and heavy in his chest that had Richie moving closer, instinctively opening his arms for the younger man. Eddie had known from the moment he’d met Richie that Richie was a man who communicated his true feelings with his body, not his mouth. Hugs, kisses and constant touch were his preferred methods of condolence when Eddie was upset and was all he could accept in times of need. “C’mere baby,” Richie said softly, seeing Eddie hesitate at the sight. The low, warm rumble of words had Eddie’s resolve crumbling, and the chestnut-haired man gave in, hugging Richie tightly and nestling his head in the well-used cradle of his husband’s arms. Richie was the sense of safety, of comfort and of _home_ no matter where he went that never failed to soothe him. The hold was a calming mixture of warmth, affection, and tenderness that he would always be granted if he just asked. The smoky, familiar cologne that Eddie had stated offhandedly during their freshman year of high school he’d liked on Richie burned into his mind, chased by the Marlborough cigarettes that forever lingered on the man.

“You doing okay, baby? What’s wrong?” Richie asked softly, moving his hand to comb through the impossibly soft locks of his husband’s hair. “You’ve been moody all week, Eds. Talk to me… What’s happening?”

Eddie sighed deeply, shuffling a bit closer and hugging his arms tighter around Richie before looking up at him. “I’ll tell you, but… I’m hungry. Can you make me something first? Please?” He asked, tired circles under his eyes leaving him aged and worn from exhaustion.

Richie softened, a small smile growing over his cheeks. He leaned down, pressing a kiss on Eddie’s nose and feeling some of his own worry melt away when Eddie’s nose crinkled under his lips and a small fuss slipped past the younger man. “Of course, baby. You want me to heat up the leftover ravioli from last night?” He offered, Eddie nodding and pressing his head back against Richie’s chest.

“‘M gonna go sit on the couch, my legs are killing me,” He mumbled into the fabric of Richie’s _Led Zeppelin_ shirt, snuggling closer and sighing deeply, “Jus’... Gimme a minute.” That had Richie smiling again, and he happily hugged the smaller man back, pressing a loving kiss at the crown of Eddie’s head.

“Take your time, baby.”

…

Richie came back into the living room with the container of now-steaming ravioli in his hands, finding Eddie curled up on the couch, boredly scrolling through his phone. “Food for one Eddie-Spaghetti?” He chimed cheerfully, Eddie looking up with a bemused smile.

“Don’t call me that, Rich,” He fussed half-heartedly, gladly taking the provided pasta and digging in with gusto. Richie sat down next to him, humming when Eddie leaned on him and instinctively draping an arm over the smaller man’s shoulders. Patiently, he waited for Eddie to finish, taking back the container when Eddie sheepishly handed it to him, three pieces of the pasta still left while the brown-haired man flushed lightly.

His sign of ‘defeat’ that Richie found adorable. “Defeated?” He hummed, Eddie nodding and hugging his arms around Richie’s chest.

“Mm-hm… Thanks bubba,” He mumbled, kissing Richie’s cheek as Richie happily finished the last three bites of cheesy goodness, humming in content at that. With the container now empty, he leaned forward, putting it on the coffee table and settling back down with his full attention now on Eddie.

“Not a problem baby. Now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? C’mere,” Richie moved so Eddie could completely crawl into his lap, immediately hugging the smaller man close when he did. “You know I hate not bein’ able to help you. I can’t really help if you call me a Dickhead for not doin’ the laundry when you didn’t ask.”

Eddie blushed at that, looping his arms around Richie’s neck and ducking his head against Richie’s collarbone. “Sorry,” He said softly, knowing that had been a little rude, even for him. “I just…. Work has been… Bad. The new guys are all assholes who think that because I used to be a nurse and because I’m gay that I’m some dainty flower. I know they’re just trying to be nice by helping me out but dammit, I don’t always need it—! I can carry an engine just as well as they can, and I know how to clean a wound if they cut themselves on it. And the guys I’ve known don’t help; they’ll rest their elbows on my head and tease me about getting the princess treatment when I’m not _asking_ for it!”

Through Eddie’s rant, Richie had been listening intently, waiting until a pause to gently raise his hand. “Breathe, baby. Breathe. Calm down, okay? I get it, no need to be mad at me; I’d be pissed off too. But remember what your therapist said? About taking breaks when you’re mad so you don’t get worked up?”

Eddie nodded slowly, panting a little from his mile-a-minute slurry of anger that had just poured out of him all at once. “Right,” He said softly, taking a deep breath in through his nose and holding it for a few moments before he exhaled. He sighed, looking up at Richie through his lashes and making a tiny noise of content when Richie cupped his cheek in praise.

“There we go, baby. Good job. Now… About those guys. Just… Honestly, baby, show off. I know you don’t like it when you do, but you deserve it. Show off that you’re strong and prove ‘em wrong. You said they’re just trying to help you out; do it right back at ‘em. If you’re a little sore at the end of the day but they quit it, you know I’ll make you one of your fancy bubble baths and give you a massage for it. All you gotta do is ask and I’ll provide.” Richie hummed, stroking his thumb lovingly over the soft swell of Eddie’s cheekbone and kissing his forehead.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, slowly absorbing the information and nodding. He was still leaning on the hand holding his cheek, waiting for Richie to pull his hand away before he moved to snuggle his head into his husband’s shoulder. Even with the ability to talk out his stress, and had found a solution, residual annoyance was still stuck on him, gummy and thick. The tension had yet to bleed from his shoulders, and Richie took note of it.

“Baby, I know that’s not it. You’re still stiff as a rock,” The comedian said, Eddie slumping against him slightly in disappointment; damn Richie’s observation skills. Sensing his husband’s disappointment at not being able to drop the subject, Richie decided he needed at least one more smile out of his soft little Eds before they continued. “ _Eeeeeeeeeeds_ , c’mon, you know you wanna _tell meee_ ~” He sing-songed, feeling Eddie giggle against his shoulder and letting a smile grow on his face.

Eddie was up for jokes; a good sign.

“ _Eddie-Spaghetti-Head, you gotta tell meeee~ Otherwise you’re gonna leave me in the Regretti-Beeeed~_ ” He sang again, Eddie fully sitting up this time to snort in amusement.

“God, I’ll tell you just so I never have to hear you sing… Whatever the hell that was— ever again,” The younger man laughed, Richie just giving him a cheeky grin in response.

“I hold no promises of that,” Richie replied, laughing himself when Eddie rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter if his husband thought his jokes were some of the worst things on the planet; Eddie was smiling again, and much less tense than before— a win, in Richie’s book.

Eddie seemed to have noticed that too, because he sighed softly, a bemused smile still peeking on his dimpled cheeks as he settled back into Richie’s arms. “I just… I wanna… I wanna _do_ something tonight, Rich,” A dark eyebrow raised curiously at that, but Eddie cut the taller man off before he could speak, “Something… _intense_. Way more than we usually would.”

“Like what?” Richie asked, his teasing demeanor gone thanks to his actual confusion at what Eddie meant. Eddie just hummed softly, biting his lip and moving to grab Richie’s hand from where it was loosely cradling his hip, instead moving it up to his own neck and looking at Richie through low-lidded lashes, swallowing thickly.

“Treat me like I can take the worst you can give.”

…

It had taken over an hour of discussion on both sides for Richie to get the picture. It hadn’t been fun, and the darker-haired man of the two would be lying if he said there wasn’t an anxious ball of energy gnawing at his insides.

In terms of what they had previously done, it was incredibly vanilla. Just some rope play via tying Eddie’s hands up and some choking. It was the _mental_ aspect of what was happening that had Richie so worried. _Degradation at it’s finest_ , Eddie had called it. Well— more like degradation bordering on consensual verbal abuse. Eddie had insisted that if Richie wasn’t comfortable with it, they didn’t have to add that aspect, but Richie had withheld, reassuring his husband he could handle it.

It wasn’t real. All Eddie had to do was say ‘mango’ and Richie would stop.

“Rich?” Eddie tapped at Richie’s hip, still holding his hands out expectantly. Oh, right. Eddie had been waiting for him to bind them before he had zoned out.

“Sorry,” The taller spoke, making quick word of the easy-to-undo-but-hard-to-break-free-of knots. He seemed a little distant, and Eddie frowned.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, Richie shrugging sheepishly.

“Just trying to get into character. I wasn’t really too far into a dom headspace before you got home. It’s just taking a bit more focus than usual.” That seemed plausible enough of an explanation from Eddie, and he relaxed against the pillows, looking up at Richie and whining softly when he felt the plug he’d put in himself press deeper inside of him. Only just prepped enough to keep himself from tearing, Eddie had explained he wanted it _rough_ , though it felt more to Richie like it was mimicking a scene of forcing himself on the smaller man.

“Ready?”

Richie swallowed, his gaze darkening and voice dropping. “Spread ‘em, _slut_.”

...

Sure, Richie’s mind logically understood that this was nothing more than a scene; a false situation perpetuated and discussed between the two of them beforehand. That they had gone over _exactly_ what would happen the whole time; that Eddie wasn’t _actually_ a victim of the crude words and awful actions that Richie was doing to him. That didn’t mean his mind accepted it. Call it what you will, but something about how tiny Eddie’s throat felt under his palm—despite having been there many times before in the exact setting— felt _wrong_. Not when it was coupled with some of the most derogatory words the two could stomach was slipping past his lips as he fucked his hips into Eddie’s barely-prepped ass.

He felt like he was _truly_ forcing himself on Eddie, even though Eddie was moaning through acted tears and hard as a rock between them. Richie’s mind was running in uncomfortable circles, and they always rounded back to that fact. It was starting to have an effect on him; the words Eddie had asked him to say were nothing that hadn't come out of his trashmouth before, but they were never direct at _Eddie_. Hell, he was fairly certain he would never direct the words _‘cock-sucking faggot’_ at _anyone_. Nevertheless, he wasn’t even _thinking_ as they spilled past his lips, his motormouth running on autopilot and hips starting to slow the tiniest fraction. He was starting to go soft as his mind kept working.

The comedian wasn’t enjoying this. That fully became clear only once—through the gradual haze clouding his attention—he felt Eddie nudge his knee against Richie's thigh twice; their nonverbal check-in. _Shit_. They’d barely been at it for twenty minutes; check-ins for scenes that they _both_ knew could last for _hours_ came at half-hour marks at the earliest.

He was fucking this up. That thought had shame tightening in his chest, burning its way up his throat until he could taste it on his tongue— bitter and raw. The already loosening grip on Eddie’s throat was instinctively released, and the younger man frowned. “Rich?” He asked, starting to recognize the signs of a possible yellow light situation and wanting to safely prevent it before it could happen without any of the stress that could come from it. What he didn’t expect was for Richie to hesitate and swallow so hard his bony shoulders jolted. Watching as his husband’s head bowed, curls falling over his eyes, a warning sign went off in Eddie’s head. “Richie?” Eddie tried again, hands tugging at the bindings of his hands, watching carefully as Richie immediately undid the simple knots that kept his hands bound. It wasn’t a good sign, but what was worse was Richie’s body language and actions. Richie still wasn’t looking at him, his hair fully covering his eyes and what Eddie _really_ hoped was just sweat dripping down over the rugged planes of his husband’s cheekbones and jawline.

Richie swallowed thickly once more, trying to keep his composure and calm down. Opening his mouth to speak, brush it off as a yellow light and explain that he didn’t want to keep calling Eddie such derogatory terms, instead, his mouth audibly snapped shut, and he bit his lip. That whole plan had gone to shit, as Eddie had gone and carefully cradled his cheek in his palm like he _always_ did when he was worried about him. The familiar, over-moisturized cradle that was his smaller husband’s warm hand had Richie’s persona completely crumbling, and he felt his shoulders shake. He pulled out before he would end up unknowingly causing either of them possible harm, his large hand cupping Eddie’s own and trying to hold it closer to himself. Dimly, his mind registered Eddie speaking, “Richie, what’s your—?”, but he cut him off. He couldn’t keep beating around the bush; he wanted out of the scene. It was too much.

“Mango.” Just _saying_ the word felt dirty on his lips, and the telltale stiffening of the brunet underneath him had tears burning in Richie’s eyes. _Knowing_ he had failed what Eddie had asked of him, the older of the pair gave a shudder-y little breath that came out in a strangled, hiccuping groan, head dipping forward once more, this time to hide his shame. He had _failed;_ never before had _either_ of them safe-worded while in the headspace of domming, and now here he was, on the verge of hyperventilating, shaking and fighting back whimpering tears for no reason. “I’m sorry, Eds— I-I’m sorry— I just— I-I _can’t—_ ”

Eddie was mentally logging every second of Richie’s behavior, trying to figure out how to help. The apology wasn’t what he had been expecting, but it sent off alarm bells all the same. “Rich— Hey, _hey_. It’s okay, Richie,” Despite his reassurances, Eddie heard an agonized noise slip past the older man’s swollen lips, realizing that Richie had been _way_ more uncomfortable than he had originally let on. “Baby, _baby,_ look at me. Please, sweetie, I’m not upset. Just look at me for a second, please?” He pleaded, mentally piecing together that this was _definitely_ going to be an intense aftercare session, and he would be the provider of it.

Not really how he planned on tonight going, but they both knew that _anything_ could happen in a scene. Headspaces were delicate, finicky things that could change on a dime with no warning. Richie had admitted to him beforehand that he hadn’t really been within a domming headspace, but had been willing to try per Eddie’s request; seems that had a lot more true than either of them had expected.

Richie hiccoughed again, sniffling and foolishly letting his eyes wring shut, hot tears stinging burning tracks down his face and falling onto Eddie’s chest. The first one hit Eddie’s tanned skin— The sensation had barely even registered before Richie was slumping against Eddie and hugging onto him like it was the end of his world. He was fighting it, trying _desperately_ not to cry and shaking harshly in his attempt; thank god they had been in missionary. It meant he was in easy access of being held; a crucial piece in aftercare whenever the black-haired man on the receiving end of it.

Not that it mattered.

He’d failed: he had _failed_ what Eddie had asked of him _._ There was _nothing_ he could have done; he couldn’t degrade the man he loved to such an awful degree, despite Eddie’s enthusiasm. Though the younger man had been moaning and clenching around Richie’s cock just as eagerly as ever, it was for naught. Vaguely, the comedian could feel the sticky, drying precum on Eddie’s chest between them, proving his point further. _I failed him and it’s all my fault._ Richie sobbed wetly in his throat, his grip on Eddie’s soft hips tightening. “C-Can’t—“ He croaked out once more, voice wavering and tipping into a breathy sob, “‘M _sorry_ —!”

That was all Eddie’s mind could deal with before he was easily moving to cradle the crying man close to him. One hand moved to the nape of Richie’s neck, holding him as close as an infant whilst the other was at the small of Richie’s back, rubbing tiny circles in the worryingly taut muscle there. Worry began to darken the corners of Eddie’s mind as he soothed the quivering body underneath his palms. The older man was clearly already experiencing the effects of a bad drop from his persona.

But that wasn’t the problem. The _problem_ was that hadn’t vocalized that he had been slipping into it, to begin with.

“Shh,” Eddie soothed, carefully trying to wriggle his hips so they could sit up. “I know— I know, sweetheart. Let it out, Rich. It’s okay— You’re okay, honey. Just let it out, baby. I’m right here.”

That floodgate burst open so quickly it almost hurt Eddie to feel the snap of tension leaving Richie’s body all at once.

Had it not been for the loud, wailing sob that escaped into his shoulder, Eddie swore he might have even _heard_ it. Richie was now firmly burrowed against him, clinging to him for dear life and weeping in his shoulder, blubbering and sobbing like a scared child. It was no state for Richie to stay in, and that was a fact. Reaching over with the hand that had been on Richie’s back, he grabbed the aftercare blanket that they always kept nearby in-case something of this ilk happened. Tucking it around Richie’s still-shaking form, the mechanic began whispering that he was going to move them to sit up properly. He winced when Richie just croaked out another apology; the root of their problem seemed to be that Richie was blaming himself. Sitting them up against the pillows wasn’t too hard, but considering that Richie was almost a foot taller than Eddie and was currently trying to fold his gangly limbs into a fetal position so he could curl up closer against Eddie— it wasn’t fun. It was also difficult because Eddie was still within the lingering effects of suddenly dropping his own persona. Definitely not to the agonized degree Richie was currently suffering, but still there.

“Richie,” He whispered after a few minutes of terse quiet, Richie’s wails having quieted down to breathy, inaudible sobs against his collarbone once he was properly in Eddie’s lap. “Baby, I’m not mad at you,” Richie fell quiet, and Eddie took it as a sign of improvement; maybe he hadn’t fully heard him when he’d said it the first time? “Baby, I need you to look at me; okay? Can you look at me please sweetie?”

A tinge of regret burned at the back of Eddie’s mouth, sour and copperish that weighed heavily on his tongue as Richie slowly looked up at him.

His mop of oily-black curls flopped out of his face, showing off the reddened, shiny face that it had hidden. Richie was definitely not by any means a beautiful crier; his face grew blotchy and red, while his eyes were almost immediately swollen from tears. Often without glasses when emotion crashed his walls down, already wide eyes would go glassy and foggy from his mental disconnect with the world around him. Getting him to cry was the hard part; once he started, it took _hours_ to get him to stop. Always one to bottle up his emotions on first instinct after years of being an emotional crier and facing minimal response from his parents, he unconsciously started bottling it up. Labeling things that weren’t important enough to cry about until something big _did_ come along and he could let it all out was the subconscious norm. Then again, if Richie felt he had done something wrong or hadn’t done what someone had wanted of him, he grew emotional. In the high-intensity setting of a scene like this, it was no wonder he’d been so quick to crumble into tears if he hadn’t been fully prepared for it in the first place.

He’d only had a few hours to prepare himself as it was; without a baseline, he was building himself up with minimal foundation. It was a risk they both accepted when they had started, but now...

Honestly, Eddie felt the strings in his heart tug and ache painfully at the sight.

Swallowing thickly, he brushed away the damp curls still curtaining Richie’s face, giving a weak smile and thumbing away the tears still dribbling down Richie’s face. “Hi sweetie,” He said softly, “You here with me?” Richie hesitated, biting his swollen lower lip and audibly gulping down with a shudder what seemed to be another sob. He reluctantly shook his head _no_ , knowing it was better to tell the truth and face the shame rather than lie and not get the proper care he needed.

“Okay,” Eddie said slowly, taking a deep breath, “How can I get you back here with me? What do you need me to do, sweetheart?” He asked.

Richie paused, letting his head cuddle towards the calloused palm still holding his cheek before he spoke. “I don’t know,” He admitted honestly. Eddie was doing his body was begging for; he just wanted to act as if the scene had never taken place and they were both just going to spend the night in bed, cuddling and seeking out every inch of skin-to-skin contact they could share with each other.

Eddie noticed the hazy look in Richie’s eyes as he seemed to mull something over, and gave a soft hum. “How about a few more minutes for you to calm down and relax, baby? So you can think?” He offered, Richie nodding slowly in reply.

It was a start.

…

Those few minutes of quiet turned into nearly half an hour of the same thing. Eddie would ask what it was Richie needed, patient and loving as could possibly be, and Richie would just quietly murmur he didn’t know yet. Every delay had Eddie growing more concerned, and by the half-hour mark, he began to grow anxious, combing his fingers through the drying, impossibly soft curls of his husband’s coal-black hair to stay still.

Richie whined weakly in content at the soothing touch, his mind finally snapping together the last piece of the puzzle and showing the complete image. He knew what he wanted; he wanted Eddie just was he was now. The comedian was craving touch, affection and gentle reassurance that he was okay— that he wasn’t in any sort of hot water for what had been said or done during the scene.

“Richie?” Eddie hummed softly, the noise catching his attention.

“Spoon me,” Richie mumbled bluntly, nosing his head back into the familiar crook of Eddie’s neck and sighing in content when Eddie relaxed and gave him a warm smile.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Eddie said, Richie slowly slipping out of Eddie’s lap to lie on his side. The weighted aftercare blanket was still draped over him as Eddie slipped behind him, head resting just at his husband’s shoulder. Even with the foot of difference between them, Eddie hugged Richie close with a warm arm over his stomach. “Better?”

“Better,” The comedian replied, both arms moving to hug Eddie’s arm close against himself.

“Good,” Eddie pressed a loving kiss against Richie’s shoulder, “We’ll talk in the morning, okay honey? Just get some sleep. I’m right here.” Richie seemed content with that statement, letting the residual tension ooze out of him as warmth and comfort seeped into the deep corners of his mind and eased his muscles. His thoughts were dragging along like molasses, the minutes dripping by slowly as he realized the current position didn’t give him the ability to burrow himself against Eddie as he wished. Slowly working his jaw, trying to force it to spill the words on his tongue that was drowsily stuck to the roof of his mouth, he gave a tired rumble low in his throat.

“Eds…” He slurred, only just conscious enough to feel his husband stir and briefly wondering just how much time had passed. “Godda… Godda face ya… Need ya….” The heavy slur in his words had Eddie sitting up, clearly having been on the very verge of falling asleep himself.

“Mm… Whatcha need pumpkin?” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist and trying to seem more awake than he was. Richie just rolled over, drowsily holding a sleep-numbed arm out like a child to be held, making a tiny noise in his throat. _Hold me_ , the action explained where Richie was unable to. Eddie just smiled softly, relaxing once more and settling back down against the sheets, pulling the blanket over them both and sighing in content at the weighted comfort it provided. He moved to hug Richie close, an arm cradling Richie’s head against his chest while his other arm tucked over the older man’s chest to hold him close. “Better?”

“Mm-hm…” Richie nodded, the soothing heartbeat under his ear proving to leave him completely immobilized. He never wanted to leave the absolute paradise that was his husband’s arms; not when Eddie was this warm and provided such a whole-hearted feeling of safety.

“Good,” Eddie cooed, pressing a kiss against Richie’s forehead, “I love you,” He said softly, nosing at Richie’s curls and feeling the sugary strings of sleep start to pull at him once more, beckoning him back to the soothing embrace of sleep. Richie was already fast asleep at that point, the droves of tears he’d previously wept having left him exhausted. Not that Eddie minded; Richie didn’t have to speak the words every time for him to feel validated and loved.

He knew well enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope yall enjoyed?? if you did leave a kudos and comment, they mean the world to be and i really do read and look every single day for new kudos' and comments!! also, this is on my tumblr at acefusti138! You can reblog the story there, leave it a like, and leave something nice in the tags! All in all, thanks so much for the support, and I'll see you guys soon with a new bottom Richie fic! See ya <3


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